by John F. Carr
“It looks like Kalvan’s tightening the noose around Hostigos Town,” Dalla said.
“Yes, he must have caught some Styphoni agents.”
“I hope one of them is Baron Sthentros!”
“You never have liked him,” Verkan said, as they waited for the line to move.
“I not only don’t like him,” Dalla said, crinkling her nose, “but I don’t trust him, either. He’s been far too quiet of late. That’s the time to guard your back from a compulsive blowhard like Sthentros!”
Verkan turned his attention to the barricade when one of the merchants, from a towering horse-drawn cart overflowing with baggage, began arguing loudly with the captain of the guards, who had a gold crest at the center of his breastplate in the shape of a keystone--Kalvan’s own emblem. The captain suddenly grabbed the merchant’s hand, spun him around and frog-marched him toward the small hut. When the merchant tried to take out his knife, another guard smacked him in the face with the flat side of his halberd.
As he slumped to the ground, the two men in his party made a sudden dash for their mounts, but came to a quick halt when one of the troopers fired his horsepistol over their heads. “Next time, I won’t aim for the sun!”
While his companions had their hands tied and weapons removed, the fallen merchant was trussed up and thrown over a horse. Two of the guards escorted the cart and three prisoners off to what Verkan was sure would be an unpleasant stay in the dungeons of Tarr-Hostigos. One of the trappers muttered, “Plague and pestilence, more Dralm-blasted spawn of Styphon! Hope they boil ‘em in oil.”
There were nods of agreement from all around, which told Verkan that Kalvan--despite his problems--still held his subjects’ hearts. By the time Verkan reached the head of the line there were about sixty people behind him, some farmers out for a day in town, two rich nobles with dark red velvet robes and a small retinue, several returning craftsmen and various traders and merchant parties.
The captain recognized him at once. “Colonel Verkan!” He all but saluted. Verkan recognized him as a trooper who’d served under him with the Mounted Rifles at the Battle of Chothros Heights. First Level memory enhancement provided him with his name. “Porthos, Captain Porthos now. I see you’ve done well since we last served together at Chothros Heights.”
“Yes, sir,” he said smartly, beaming. “Captain of the Second Squadron, First Royal Horseguard. I’m surprised you remember my name, sir.”
“I never forget a comrade,” Verkan replied. “Why the guard stations?”
Captain Parthros turned his head and spat onto the muddy ground. “Styphon’s privy-rats. We catch two or three every moon-quarter.”
Kalvan wasn’t the only one who was learning, thought Verkan. Styphon’s House had proved itself much more resilient than the First Level experts on the Kalvan Study team had predicted. From the Harphax City Team he’d been receiving reports the Styphoni were not only paying to rebuild the Royal Harphaxi Army, but also bringing in mountains of supplies for the coming spring campaign season. The Inner Circle had even dispatched their top trouble-shooters, Archpriest Anaxthenes and Grand Master Soton, to guarantee their gold was well spent.
The cobblestone streets of Hostigos Town were crowded with pedestrians, soldiers and wagon traffic despite the gathering rain. The crack of iron-shod hooves on the cobblestones echoed through the narrow streets like musket shots. Verkan noticed that tied to every hitching post at the Red Halberd was a horse, if not two.
When the rain started in earnest, Verkan dropped Dalla off at their townhouse. He threaded his way through the crowded streets to Tarr-Hostigos, which looked down upon the town from the ridges above.
Verkan Vall entered Kalvan’s private audience chamber, noticing for the first time a colorful new tapestry commemorating the Battle of the Three Kings--actually two, since at the time of the Battle of the Spirit Grove, Warlord Sargos was neither king nor ally. Things had changed considerably since then. Sargos had crowned himself King of the Sastragath, or Var-Wannax, and was awaiting recognition of his title from Kalvan and Great King Nestros.
Kalvan rose to greet him and shook his hand heartily. Kalvan had introduced the handshaking ritual to Aryan-Transpacific and, after spreading through Hos-Hostigos, it was beginning to appear in the neighboring kingdoms. Up close, Kalvan looked drawn and there were bags under his eyes, as if he hadn’t been getting much sleep. He knew it wasn’t because of the rift between him and Rylla, since Tortha had told them that the King and Queen had patched up their differences while he’d been shuttling between First Level, Greffa City and the Sastragath--talk about being in three places at once! Despite First Level relaxation techniques and hypno-sleep, Verkan suspected he looked as worn out as Kalvan.
“It’s good to see you again, Verkan. I see you made it back just before winter. Did you bring Dalla with you again? I’m asking now because if I forget, Rylla will have a courier riding over to your townhouse for an
answer!”
“Yes, Dalla insisted I bring her along on this trip. We plan to stay a moon-half, maybe more.”
“Excellent, the first good news I’ve gotten in some time.” Turning serious, Kalvan paused to light his pipe. “Were you able to bring in any field guns?”
“Yes, I had them sent by barge to Ulthor from Greffa--six eight-pounders.”
Kalvan’s eyes lit up and he all but clapped his hands. “We can use those guns, Verkan. With Captain-General Phidestros stockpiling arms at Tarr-Veblos, our strategy has changed and I, for one, am not happy about it.”
“Yes, taking the war to your opponents has always been the best strategy.”
“Exactly, what I’d planned to do before Phidestros circumvented Phrames and took Tarr-Veblos. At last report, he’s garrisoned it with about two thousand troops, with reinforcements nearby. We’re still going to go on the offensive, but we will have to marshal our forces more carefully, or face defeat in detail. We’d be much better off if we still held Tarr-Veblos--”
From the grim look on his friend’s face, Verkan knew that Kalvan was thinking of Rylla’s unanticipated attack on Phaxos that allowed Captain-General Phidestros to establish a beachhead in Hostigi territory last year by capturing the Beshtan castle, Tarr-Veblos.
Kalvan shook his head, and continued, “I’d much prefer to confine this fight to Hos-Harphax, but that’s not in the cards. Maybe we can end it on the field of battle this campaign season, for once and for all. But enough of this talk, tell me about your visit to the Sastragath. Were you able to meet Ranjar Sargos?”
“Yes, I did, and once Sargos found out I was a friend of Great King Kalvan--there was no end to his hospitality.”
Kalvan smiled. “That’s Sargos, all right. He’s a great friend to his allies, and a holy terror to his foes. It was his idea to burn the Knights out of the Drynos Mines--the idea came to him in a vision. I could use him and his horde right now--turn them loose in Hos-Ktemnos.”
Verkan nodded. “Sargos told me lots of stories about your time together.”
“We did have a lot of time to talk and, truth be told, he was a much better conversationalist than King Nestros, who quickly proved to be a bore.”
Verkan chuckled. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Nestros, but I’ll accept your judgment. Anyway, Sargos has mulled over your words and come up with some interesting reforms. To solve the problem of all the war orphans, widows and clanless men from the War of the Three Kings, Sargos has offered to make all those of Urgothi extraction clan members of the Tymannes. He told me he’d liked your ‘melting pot’ idea, but that the Clan Elders rejected the idea completely. Many of the Tymannes still hate their Ruthani allies--and former enemies.
“Not surprisingly, there were thousands of Urgothi warriors whose clans and tribes were decimated during the Time of Troubles and most of them have flocked to his standard. Being a tribeless man in the Sastragath is a terrible fate, usually ending in indentured servitude, or outlawry. To be able to join the Warlord’s Clan is not on
ly a great honor, but also a refuge with possibilities of many battles and all the loot and honor that go along with them. Sargos has added so many clansmen to the Tymannes that they are now the largest clan in the unclaimed territories. Wannax Sargos is personally able to field about fifteen thousand warriors, with almost ten times that number of women and children!”
Kalvan paused to knock the heel out of his pipe. “I learned a lot of this from his Warchief Vanar Halgoth, who arrived shortly after you returned to Greffa and brought me up to date. The last time I saw Sargos, all the warriors of the Tymannes didn’t number more than a Royal regiment. I do remember warning him about establishing a cult of leadership without sufficient loyal troops.”
“Yes, and you also told him about the twenty acres, a mule and 10 golden Crowns. Now Sargos is settling his new clansmen along the Hos-Ktemnos border. That’ll give King Cleitharses a few sleepless nights. He told me that your words convinced him that it was time to civilize the Sastragath before the Knights or Hos-Ktemnos did it under Styphon’s House’s direction.”
“I wish I’d sworn Sargos to take his horde into Hos-Ktemnos. I doubt that a Sastragathi invasion would take Grand Master Soton out of next spring’s campaign, but Great King Cleitharses of Hos-Ktemnos would think twice before sending any troops north with Sargos and his army knocking on the back door!”
Verkan laughed, but the smile quickly vanished. “No one expected Styphon’s House to rear up off its hindquarters as if bitten on the end-parts by a wolf! Besides, Sargos might have had to turn you down, which would have meant a blood-debt had gone unpaid--and that might have brought about a real breach between the two of you.”
Kalvan finished refilling his pipe with fresh tobacco and nodded. “You’re right. Maybe we can get some help from Great King Nestros. I’ll have to send an envoy--Prince Ptosphes, maybe Harmakros too, since they hit it off. Anyone with less status than First Prince Ptosphes, Nestros would be sure to see as an insult, damn his thick skull! I don’t have enough good officers to send them haring off on wild-goose chases in Hos-Rathon!”
“From what Tortha told me of your Trygathi campaign, Nestros certainly owes you anything you might ask for. As for Sargos, I’m sure he would be more than glad to ‘help’ out. But he told me that he has already promised his Ruthani allies that he would take a large force into the Sea of Grass to fight against the invaders from the South. Sargos told me that if he can take the war across the Great River that will help settle things in the Sastragath so he will be able to concentrate his future energies on building his new realm. Also, it’s been a long time since any Sastragathi Warlord has taken his army into the Sea of Grass and I think that appeals to his vanity. With the firearms he scrounged during the war and the ones you sent him, he’ll certainly have more firepower than any Sastragathi army before him.”
Kalvan took a long pull on his pipe. “Sargos doesn’t strike me as a man who fights for vainglory; I think he’s still establishing his leadership position among the clans and villages of the Sastragath. By taking his warriors across the Great River he’s reversing the usual invasion route and proving his capability as Warlord and Var-Wannax. If he’s already making the changes you’ve mentioned, he’s going to need all the credibility he can get. Still, we could use his help.”
Verkan nodded his agreement. “Now that the Fireseed Mystery is blown, time is running out for Styphon’s House. They must realize they need to win this war while they’re still controlling the Southern Kingdoms.
All you have to do is hold out for two or three more winters, and Styphon’s House -will collapse from the inside of dry rot.”
“It can’t happen too soon,” Kalvan replied, shaking his head.
II
Archpriest Anaxthenes knew he should be packing for his departure to Balph, but his mind was too crowded with plots and machinations. Great King Lysandros had been obviously pleased that such a high-ranking Archpriest, the Speaker of the Inner Circle, had arrived in Harphax City to officiate at the enthronement. Anaxthenes had met with Archpriest Grythos, Grand Master Soton’s candidate for the Inner Circle, and had found him to be a strong potential ally. Soton and he had discussed many issues and found themselves in agreement on most of them. They had even discussed ways to decrease Investigator Roxthar’s influence over the Temple Guardsmen. For the first time since Kalvan had begun his conquest of Hos-Harphax, Anaxthenes believed his own star was again on the ascent.
Anaxthenes heard the knock at the door, stopped his pacing, and turned around. His bedchamber was fit for a prince and recently re-modeled by Great King Lysandros for visiting dignitaries to the palace. Former King Kaiphranos had let the palace fall into disrepair and Lysandros had spent a small fortune--mostly borrowed from the Temple--to refurbish it for his enthronement. The Archpriest, however, was oblivious to the satin and velvet furnishings, and only had eyes for the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Petty-Captain Fydar. I have someone who says he has your permission to call.”
Anaxthenes opened to door to see the Royal Bodyguard holding a short, hunchbacked man in a black robe by the scruff of his neck. It must be important or Yagos would have never come directly to his chamber.
“Let him down, Petty-Captain.” The bodyguard grimaced but let the little man drop to the floor like a bag of laundry.
“Thank you, Archpriest,” the little man said in a surprisingly deep voice, as he scrambled to his feet.
“You may go, Petty-Captain.” Anaxthenes passed him a small purse. “I would be most appreciative if you told no one of this visit.”
“Yes, Your Sanctity.” The Petty-Captain had the look of a man who’d seen all manner of comings and goings in the palace and knew when it was smart to keep his mouth shut.
After the door was closed, Anaxthenes asked, “How did you fare, Deacon Yagos?”
The little man rubbed his hands nervously. “It was more difficult than I expected, Your Sanctity. This mercenary Captain-General commands more loyalty than most of that breed. I had to spend one purse on drinks for these mercenaries that call themselves the Iron Band. Among them they would drink the Harph River dry were it ale!”
“Yes, yes, go on!”
“They told marvelous and wondrous tales about fighting the Daemon Kalvan and his soldiers, but no one knew much about their captain--other than he makes yearly treks to Zygros City.”
“I’m not surprised. His accent is Zygrosi. Go on, Yagos.”
“I tried to talk to General Kyblannos, but he is married to his guns and has little interest in anything than doesn’t clank or go bang. Grand-Captain Geblon has been with Captain-General Phidestros for eight winters, since he was a petty-captain. The man, besides an unquenchable thirst for drink, has an endless well of stories about his leader. Even falling off his stool, he wouldn’t talk about Phidestros’ journeys to Zygros City.”
“So, then?”
“I found the highest priced madam in Harphax City. For a large purse of gold I was able to purchase the services of a most magnificent harlot.”
“I take it you had a plan in mind?” Anaxthenes asked dryly.
“Oh, yes, Archpriest! I paid the Lady Sessadra--she claims to be Prince Selestros’ bastard daughter--five golden rakmars, with a promise of ten more were she able to bring me the information I required. I then escorted her to the Red Dog Tavern, with the Temple Guard you loaned me--a wise precaution, Your Sanctity, since the two of us would not have walked six paces before this goddess was spirited away, so lovely is she.”
“Please, spare me! The information--what did you learn about our Captain-General Phidestros?”
“Ahhh. Geblon could not wait to take her to his chambers. I watched from behind a barrel, while she stunned him with beauty like a snake spells a fat bird. Oh, our poor Grand-Captain never had a chance. He told her all about his great Captain-General and how it was rumored in the Zygros City wine shops that he was the get of the Zygrosi royals. Some say he is the spitting image of Grand Duke Eudocles, when
he was a young man. Is this the Hos-Zygros connection you suspected, Your Sanctity?”
“You have done well, Yagos,” Anaxthenes said, removing a large purse from the cupboard. He turned and tossed it to the little priest. “Here is your reward. Your goddess awaits!”
The little man nodded, as the purse disappeared within his tattered robe. “You know me well, Your Sanctity.”
“Too well. Just don’t mark the Lady up too badly; I don’t want to have any complaints from the city warden. Great King Lysandros is said to have little patience with lawbreakers. I will not buy your freedom again. And see that you’re not too drunk to report to the packet I have arranged for your transport, when we leave this barbarous kingdom on the third morning. If you’re not at the dock on time, you can walk back to Balph!”
“Yes, Your Sanctity. I will return in time.”
“See that you do!” Anaxthenes forgot the little man the minute he left the room. So much planning to do. Now that he had his observation verified: what to do? He knew Great King Lysandros would find this information most interesting, but Lysandros was of little use to him. Anaxthenes had taken his measure of Lysandros; he neither trusted the Great King nor his ‘ardent’ belief in Styphon. Lysandros was a man who loved himself before all things--including men and gods. Nor was he a fanatic like Rox-thar, trying to remake the world as he thought it should be. Should he tell the Grand Master? Yes. Soton might find this information of value in his dealings with Phidestros. Of one thing he was certain, someday this information would be worth much more than a dozen purses of gold.
III
Kalvan looked down at the parchment sent to him by his Chief of Intelligence, Duke Skranga. He had spent the day with Master Ermut trying to explain the concept of a lens for the new telescopes, or farseers as Ermut called them. It was too late to return to Tarr-Hostigos, so he was running over some of the day’s briefings. One of Skranga’s moles at Tarr-Harphax had picked up a very interesting bit of information, a communiqué between Great King Lysandros and Great King Niclophon of Hos-Bletha. The Hos-Blethan King was sending five thousand regulars from the Royal Army and another six thousand irregulars, mostly light cavalry and javelin throwers, under the command of Captain-General Lykron to join the invasion of Hos-Hostigos in the spring. The troops and their mounts would be ferried by Styphon’s Great Fleet directly to Port Naphros in Hos-Ktemnos and from there they’d join the Great Host atTarr-Veblos.